When The Storm Is Through
by greyslostwho
Summary: Inspired by the song from Anastasia, At The Beginning… Robin/Marian. The generic story, through the years, with a twist. Threeshot.
1. Chapter 1

**WHEN THE STORM IS THROUGH**

**Inspired by the song from Anastasia, At The Beginning…**

**Robin/Marian. The generic story, through the years, with a twist. Threeshot.**

**Because I LOATHE Isabella.**

_I._

_We were strangers, starting out on a journey…_

Summer didn't last long in England, but those summer weeks through July and August turned the courtyard at Locksley and the woods surrounding them into an infinite playground for the pair of them. Desperate for so much as even a taste of a freedom they could only dream about, at the respective ages of thirteen and fourteen, Robin of Locksley and his manservant Much had taken to tearing like wild animals around the grounds of Locksley manor, climbing trees, stumbling, falling and climbing back up again, and generally raising merry hell for the Lord and Lady.

It was one such summer day that they were called in prematurely by Jane, Locksley's matronly housekeeper, and despite complaints and struggles to get free of her grip, she marched the pair of them into the house, away from their wonderful, half-real world.

Much was bundled into the kitchen to help the servants, despite both their violent and innovative protests, and Robin's fate was far worse… as he was lightly pushed into his bedchamber the worrying sight of a tin bath by the fire met him. Jane scrubbed behind his ear, and trimmed his hair, and laid out clean clothes for him to dress in, and afterwards he looked almost respectable, maybe a little older than his age, even, and not so much the tearaway child that sometimes the local people would tut at and wonder if he would ever be strong and sensible enough to be the rightful Lord of Locksley… he looked like his father's heir now, smart and strong.

When he joined his parents in Locksley Manor's dining hall, they were joined by a man he didn't know… but a well dressed man, with a manservant at his shoulder, someone Robin wouldn't usually have been at all interested in. But Much wasn't beside him today, to whisper remarks to about the man's extravagant dress, and there was someone else sat at the table, in the seat beside his.

A girl, maybe a year or two younger than him, sat regally with her hands folded in her lap. The only girls he'd ever known had been the maids in their manor, and the odd village girl that had found her way into the courtyard on an errand with her father, if he was the butcher, or the blacksmith, and he was doing a service for the Lord and Lady. But none of the girls he'd ever met, not even his cousins in Kirkby, had been quite like this girl. She wasn't tall or short, or fat or thin, but her face had something about it that made him swallow. She had long brown hair, braided down her back, and she wore a simple white dress and a white headdress twisted through with gold thread… but it was her eyes he noticed. They were blue, the colour of the ocean he had only seen once in his life, and they were big, round and somehow sad… he had never seen eyes quite like it.

He didn't know she was the bane of her father's life, ever since her mother died, a tearaway child with infinite escape routes from their manor ending in Marian soaked in water, or mud, or worse, playing rough and tumble with the village children. He didn't know she still cried every night because she'd been the one to hold her mother's hand as the fever sapped her life away. He didn't know she was far more alone in the world, beside her grieving father, than he would ever be.

She caught him looking at her, and raised one eyebrow, making him grin.

"Robin, this is the Sheriff of Nottingham, Sir Edward of Knighton, and this is his daughter, Lady Marian." His mother smiled.

Robin gave a little bow. "How do you do?" he muttered, and his face flushed slightly pink as he took his seat beside the girl, flashing her a wide smile as he sunk into his seat, and then averted his eyes again. She merely nodded at him, her face unreadable.

It was then that his father spoke.

"You and Marian are to be betrothed, son."

_II._

_Unexpected, what you did to my heart…_

"Beautiful, isn't it?" he said, stepping up behind her, a feather-light hand on her arm, darting away as quickly as it had come. She couldn't help flinching a little at the sudden contact, and he flashed her one of the smiles she'd become so used to in the last five years. She was standing on a hill, just outside Knighton, staring down at the forest below, the sun beginning to sink behind the tops of the tallest trees. She nodded slowly, not sure she wanted to break the silence with words just yet.

They stood together for a moment. That was something beautiful about their friendship, no silence was awkward, every moment was full. Since the day they'd been introduced words had hardly been spoken of their betrothal, and it didn't seem to matter, at least for now. Marian had slotted right into his life, first tearing around in the courtyard with him and Much, and then, as the pair of them grew older, grew out of the childish games, and away from pretences, she was intelligent to rival the boys, reading and writing, playing a small wooden flute her mother had bought her when she was a child, as well as learning to ride, fence and use her fists, learning quickly from the boys behind the church in Locksley. Their parents had watched, contented, as the two grew closer, until no one was as at ease with Robin as Marian was, and until he was the only person she truly _talked _to.

"I… I, uh… got something for you…" Robin muttered, and she turned to face him, their eyes meeting, and a small smile crept onto her lips.

"You didn't have to-" she started, but he shook his head.

"I wanted to." He pulled something out of his pocket and handed her a bundle, wrapped in slightly grubby white cloth. She began to unwrap it.

"It's not much… one of the village women down in Locksley made it from the stone that I found and…" he trailed off as she unwrapped the last layer of cloth, revealing the necklace. It was only simple, a blue stone threaded onto some string, but the stone was mottled and beautiful and the exact colour of her eyes.

She shook her head slowly, still looking down. "It's wonderful." She whispered, fingers lightly tracing the stone, as if testing its reality. Robin grinned nervously, and she looked up at him, a small, unfathomable smile touching his lips.

"Put it on, for me?" she whispered, handing him the two ends of the pendant and turning around.

She pretended she didn't hear his breath hitch as he looped the necklace around her neck, fastening the clasp at the back as she had one hand holding her hair out of the way. His fingers brushed lightly across the pale skin at the nape of her neck, sending a shudder through her. She pretended it didn't almost undo her when he leant forward to whisper, and she felt his breath on her neck.

"Beautiful."

Heart thudding in her ears, she was torn between running and turning, but his fingers, still light on her half-bare shoulders (it was the first time her father had allowed her to wear a dress with such a generous neckline), his fingers held her there. She was sure he could hear her heart thudding through her skin and her dress, she was sure the blood in her veins was racing at a speed that was almost worryingly fast, but she was frozen to the spot, on the very brink of falling or fleeing.

She let her hair go, falling around her shoulders, over his hands, and for a moment she thought the spell was broken, took a deep breath and turned to face him again. But his eyes had changed, there was something there that had never been there before, and suddenly she couldn't look away. She could feel a hand cupping her cheek, bringing their faces even closer, but she could remember how it got there, she couldn't remember at what point they'd gotten so near that she could feel the heat radiating off him in waves.

"Happy Birthday, Marian." He whispered, and touched his lips to hers.

She'd never been kissed before, and he'd never kissed anyone else. They came together with the clumsy grace of a first kiss, and it was wary, stumbled yet stunning. His hand cupping her cheek slid up into her hair, and his other hand rested lightly on her waist, mapping unmarked territory as he pulled her closer, lips still light and chaste. As she felt their bodies collide something awoke in her, and she slid her right hand around his neck, fingers curling in the back of his slightly-too-long hair, smiling against his mouth, and then slowly allowing hers to open.

Breathing fell to the side as their tongues duelled against each other, both of them tasting something they'd only dared dream about, and locked in the darkest, furthest recesses of their minds. It was then that she realised she was still holding the dirty cloth he'd wrapped her birthday present in, and with a small sigh, she released it from her fingers, bringing her other arm to join it's partner around his neck.

The white handkerchief blew across the tops of the long grass in the wind.

_III._

_Life is a road and I want to keep going…_

He traced her features lightly with his finger, as the sun lit a pathway across her sleeping face. He'd only just begun to get used to the feeling of her laid beside him all night long, their legs entwined, their bodies flush and warm against each other. It was two years since he had kissed her on Knighton Hill, and so much had changed. His mother had died, and his father was old now, and sick and frail… but he could survive. As long as he was with her, he could survive. Their wedding was in two weeks, she had planned it all, her eyes bright, with her handmaid Tess, and that night had been the first night she had snuck into his bedchamber. The servants turned a blind eye… there was nothing too wrong about any of it… there was no doubt that the pair of them loved each other, and with the date of the wedding set…

And here he was, waiting to burn all of those plans, all of that beauty down to the ground.

She stirred beside him, and endless oceans stared up at him. He fought with the demon inside again, for split seconds, but shamelessly decided he wanted the final memories to be love, not pain. He bent his head to meet her lips.

"Morning…" she murmured, curling a finger through his hair, smiling up at him, "What time is it?"

"Not late." He whispered, "I'm just… going to meet with someone." He forced a smile. "I'll be back before lunch time. Go back to sleep."

A lie have never hurt quite so much. He was a coward, and he knew it. She gave him a chaste kiss, her eyelids still heavy with sleep, falling back into the slow rhythm of unconsciousness.

Wiping a tear from his eye roughly, he slung his carefully concealed pack onto his back and left her lying there.

Later she would read a letter, left in her own room, in his familiar, scruffy hand.

_My dearest Marian_

_It is with the greatest regret that I leave this letter as my farewell. It is purely for my own, selfish reason that I did not tell you face to face, and I know that it what you deserved. I did not want us to part on bad terms. I have joined the King's army and am leaving this afternoon for the __Holy Land__ on Crusade. I have thought about this forever, Marian, and although I am loathe to leave you I have to find some glory, some meaning in my life. I know you'll be angry, and rightly so, but never doubt that I love you, more than anything else in the world._

_I will return to you, I promise you that._

_You husband-to-be, _

_Robin_

She would cry over the letter, and rip it into tiny shreds.

The next week, when she was as near to hitting rock bottom as she thought possible, she would regret tearing up the last thing she had to remind her of him.

Eight months later, a hooded figure carrying a baby would leave Knighton Hall, where the Lady Marian had been resting for the past weeks with some obscure and unknown illness. The young maid would carry the baby as far as Papplewick, where she would leave the little girl with a blacksmith and his family, with nothing but an embroidered handkerchief with the letter "M" sewn into one corner, and a whispered name straight from the lips of the child's mother.

"Ysabel."

**A/N: This is the first part of three, and each part will be split into three sectors, each with a lyric, like this one. I hope you like it. **

**xx**


	2. Chapter 2

**WHEN THE ****STOR****M IS THROUGH**

**Inspired by the song from Anastasia, At The Beginning…**

**Robin/Marian. The generic story, through the years, with a twist. Threeshot.**

**Because I LOATHE Isabella.**

**A/N: I have also made a Robin&Marian video with the same title as this fic, to the same song... my first EVER video, so please check it out!!!! I'll put the link on my profile ;)**

_IV._

_Love is a river I want to keep flowing…_

It had been almost a year since he'd been back now, and so much had happened, with the new Sheriff, with Gisbourne, Robin turning outlaw, his gang in the forest… so clearly not what she'd wanted out of her life, but with him with her again, it was something close to good, anyway.

She'd denied him her love, denied him everything, when he'd returned, still fuming, still hurt beyond repair. She didn't think he would ever fully appreciate how difficult it had been for her after he had left, with nothing but a letter and his child, his illegitimate, impossible child growing inside her. She'd only been eighteen, and her father had been away a lot in that year, and it was Tess, her maid, that had organised it all, much to Marian's loathing, to whisk the baby away the moment she was born, a beautiful baby girl Marian had named Ysabel after her mother the second before the baby was wrapped in a cloth and Tess had run with her, from the manor, from Marian's life.

The ache had been deep, the pain had been terrible. She hadn't known it was possible to feel quite like this about anything. She'd spent her days recovering locked in her room, trying to think straight, try to formulate a plan to find her daughter and run away somewhere, but she'd known it wasn't possible from the moment Sir Guy of Gisbourne and the Sheriff Vasey arrived in Nottingham, and everything she'd ever known began to crumble. For the sake of her father, and the sake of her own sanity, she was able to push everything into a chest in the corner of her mind for a while, the name Ysabel was never let through her lips again, except in her sleep, when she would cry. She was tough; everyone had known that since she'd been the resilient girl not crying at her mother's deathbed.

She was tough, up to a point. Because the news that Robin of Locksley had returned from the crusades a hero… that nearly killed her. So she denied him everything, drew up a wall between them, and she vowed that she would never let herself love him again.

But a love like that… it doesn't leave with anger, it doesn't even leave with hate, though it took her almost dying to fully realise that. The night after the failed wedding with Gisbourne, the night after she'd finally kissed him again – she hadn't known she was craving it, missing him quite so much until she was drowning in him again, that night… he climbed through the window of her bed chamber. She hadn't known he was coming… but she'd been expecting him, and she couldn't even make sense of that to herself. She'd felt his arms snake around her where she stood by the opposite window, and his lips just above her ear, whispering things, whispering to make her forget. They shed their clothes quickly, and afterwards; as he lay, spooned around her, she cried lightly, and he whispered to her, "I love you, I'm sorry, forgive me," until she slept.

Things were better, now they knew where they stood, but nothing was easy anymore, from the moment he'd left, everything had shifted. Nothing in either of their lives would ever be simple again. He was an outlaw, she was treading dangerously courting with Gisbourne also… and sometimes she thought she could see a flicker of good in his eyes, whereas other times she was truly afraid of what she saw in them. She hadn't told Robin about Ysabel… it seemed that was the only thing she could hold over him… she would be ruining her own happiness to still hate him now, but there was still the blame for everything rooted in her heart with him, and she could withhold this one last thread from those years apart from him… and it wasn't a box she wanted to open, anyway, when everything was starting to fall back into some sort of shaky place.

_V._

_I'll be there when the world stops turning…_

Right now she was sat among the leaves on the floor of the forest, and her father had died. Robin had brought her straight out here, straight to his camp, and then he'd gone back into Nottingham – saying something about loose ends needing to be tied up, and she was sat on her own, finding it impossible to be with any of the rest of the gang. She pulled her knees up to her chest, and couldn't help thinking for the hundredth time that if only he hadn't left her, none of this would ever have happened…

He sank into the leaves beside her, pulling her close, pressing a kiss to her hair. In private…._completely _in private like this, that was when she noticed how much they'd changed the most. They weren't eighteen and twenty-one anymore, that was a start, but it was more than years that had changed them. It was pain, and secrets, and lies, and other people, and denial, and that one big thing looming over her… the daughter he didn't know he had. But for now, when she was hurting, and his arms were around her, holding her tight and close and warm, she didn't have to be the toughened, strong woman she'd become after everything life had thrown at her. She could just be Marian, and he could just be Robin, outlaws and Sheriffs and fathers aside, and for a few short moments… she forgot herself.

He was stroking her hair, and she was crying… when had she started crying?... her tears soaking into his clothes, and she was fisting the back of his shirt like a child, holding onto him for dear life, because whatever he had done, however broken she'd been when he'd left… that didn't matter, not right now. Her father was dead… she was an outlaw too, and he was the only thing holding her steady. She pulled back, cupping his face in her hands.

"Don't you ever wonder what might have been?" she whispered, holding his gaze with her reckless blue eyes.

His grimace told her his answer: Every single day. But he returned her stare defiantly.

"You once told me that what's past is past, Marian. That's how we have to live now. Only for the present."

She took his hands. "Don't you ever think what it might have been like, Robin? If you hadn't gone to war?" she took a deep breath, and the scene started to play out before her eyes. "You would be Lord of Locksley right now, and we… we could be married…" she smiled slightly at the thought. "It's been five years… there could be a little one running around in our courtyard, a little girl with dark hair and brown eyes… and a little boy…"

There was a wistful look in his eyes as he joined her. "A little boy called Edward."

Still, no tears. She thought she might be dried up from crying. "And you would have stopped the Sheriff before he even started, and Gisbourne, and my… my father would still be Sheriff of Nottingham and Much would probably live in a cottage in Locksley with a wife and children, and…"

"Every summer we would ride down to Nottingham to stay with your father for a week or so, and little Edward and our daughter. And then the King would return and there would be no revolution to greet him, and everything would be as it should have been…"

There was a silence as they both considered.

"I made a mistake leaving you." He said gently, and he squeezed her hands. "I was looking for fulfilment, for glory, and to prove I was worthy of you. What I didn't realise was that it was selfish."

She entwined her fingers with his. "Every single day I wondered where you were. I hoped you were somewhere far enough from the fighting not to be hurt, hoped Much was taking good care of you, prayed you might be on your way back. But at night I used to dream you were lying dead in a ditch somewhere and I would cry myself back to sleep."

He cradled her face in his hands. "Every night before I went to sleep I would whisper your name on the wind." He murmured, pulling her closer. "I would picture your face and know I had made a mistake, and hope to God that one day you would forgive me and take me back."

And although the dream, with Ysabel running across the fields, was still strong in her mind, she kissed him through her tears. "I forgive you." She whispered, "I take you back…"

And months later he buried her in the Holy Land.

_VI._

_Now here we stand, unafraid of the future…_

"Bel! Come in here!" the voice called, and Ysabel collected her skirts and hitched her little brother Daniel onto her hip.

"Coming, Mother!" she shouted back, checking the fastening on the end of her braid and stumbling back towards their small village house in Papplewick. She was the blacksmith's daughter, so although their village was poor, at least her family had a half decent living. She put Daniel down in the yard with her other brothers and sisters and opened the door into the dark cottage. Her mother and father were sat at their small table, with a woman. The woman looked as though she was better off than them, at least her clothes did, but her face and eyes were sad, and she was painfully thin. Ysabel looked at her parents, and both their faces were grim, and her mother's eyes were shining.

"Sit down, Bel." Her father said, and she'd never heard his voice quite like this. It was dark, sad, _angry, _almost. She took a seat, looking curiously across at the woman opposite.

"Ysabel, my name is Tess, and seventeen years ago I was the only handmaid to a respectable young Lady in Knighton, near Nottingham." Her voice betrayed her own sadness. "She… she was going to be married, to her childhood sweetheart, the wedding was planned… but he had to leave, he had to fight in the crusades. Your… my mistress was distraught, it was horrible, but the worse shock came weeks later when we realised she was with child…" Tess took a deep breath, and the lines in her forehead eased a little. Bearing this secret had taken a toll on her. "I… she was young, you have to understand, and she… she didn't know what to do. I took control, because she couldn't afford this to get. We said she was sick, and kept her inside, until her daughter was born… I loved my mistress, and it hurt to see her hurting, but I knew more of the real world than she did, and I knew she could never keep the little girl, so I gave up everything I knew… I took the baby the moment she was born and ran away with her, brought her to a family I knew would take care of her." She took another deep breath, her eyes searching out the young girl's eyes. How well Ysabel had grown up.

"I could never go back to my mistress, she… she loved that baby, she would have forced me to take her to her daughter… I was out of work for two years, practically a beggar, but I had to keep the child safe, because if she was reunited with her mother things would become dangerous. I watched your mother from a distance... your father returned, and they were almost happy... she never told him about you, I think it hurt too much. I was then employed by a young French Lord, and have spent the last fourteen years out of the country." She looked between Ysabel's parents and then back to the girl. "When I returned to Nottingham last week, I heard the terrible news. My mistress was killed a long time ago, over in the Holy Land, not long after I left for France." Tess clenched and unclenched her fist on the table. Ysabel merely stared, counting years, counting chances.

"I heard from a friend of mine who was my mistresses new maid that she vowed, after a while, that when all the trouble with the Sheriff and Prince John was over, and England was stable again, and she could marry her child's father and live happily in the manor… she would find the girl, she didn't care if she had to go to every village in Nottinghamshire to find her. But she died before the trouble ended… and I feel it is my duty… as the only person who knew where that little baby was taken… to tell her the truth, now."

Ysabel raised her head, her heart thudding at the base of her throat. "I… that baby was me, wasn't it?"

Tess looked briefly between her parents before nodding slowly. "Your mother was Lady Marian of Knighton, Ysabel. And your father… your father was Robin of Locksley… you probably know the name-"

And Robin Hood's daughter breathed his name.

**A/N: Again, please review!**


	3. Chapter 3

**WHEN THE ****STOR****M IS THROUGH**

**Inspired by the song from Anastasia, At The Beginning…**

**Robin/Marian. The generic story, through the years, with a twist. Threeshot.**

**Because I LOATHE Isabella.**

_VII_

_._

_I knew there was somebody somewhere like me alone in the dark…_

Everything was grey. He couldn't see the colours in the forest, in the towns and villages, even in the people he fought to save. The moment her hand had slid down his and he'd felt her pulse stop, the colour had slowly drained out of everything, leaving him with nothing left. And now it had been fifteen years, almost to the day, since he'd fallen to pieces. He wasn't a young man anymore, those days were long gone… but he'd stopped truly being young the moment he'd lost her – she'd been the centre of his life ever since he was thirteen years old, and for her to be gone…

Even now, it hurt to think about it.

Times had changed, John was still on the throne, but the whispers were that it wouldn't be for much longer… He'd regained his position as Lord of Locksley, about five years too late, and Much had been given Bonchurch, and found himself a wife and had two sons… Robin and William. Allan and Kate had gotten married, and last he heard they were living in Knighton, with their children… he wasn't sure where John had gone, but they'd said their goodbyes, and Tuck had disappeared almost as unexpectedly as he had arrived, but that didn't bother any of them much. It had always seemed that Tuck wasn't a permanent fixture.

It had been the hardest time of his life, when the Sheriff and Gisbourne and all remnants of their old, struggling lives had fallen away, and they were expected just to integrate back into the right way of things, stop being outlaws, take back the positions they were owed. Because he had never imagined an end to this all without her by his side in a white dress with a garland of flowers around her head and a sparkle in her eyes. He hadn't imagined a future at Locksley manor without their children running along across the courtyard, tumbling and laughing like he had, so long ago he almost couldn't remember. He hadn't thought about all his friends being happy when he didn't have the one thing that made him happy by his side anymore.

There had been other women… he hadn't been completely alone all those years… he'd known what she would have wanted, too, for him to try and be happy. But there was no one that could make him happy. Women were to drown in, for a short time… he'd made the mistake of thinking he could ever fall for someone else with Isabella, Gisbourne's sister of all people, barely months after Marian's death. He'd fallen into the denial and regret that comes with losing someone you love, and for a few short weeks he managed to delude himself that he had feelings for the pretty young woman who always seemed to say the _right thing. _But when he'd realised what he was doing… trying so desperately to bury the memory under new memories, that were pale in comparison, he was almost sick… He'd spent time with a widow in Locksley, after he took the manor back… she'd understood him, that he needed to forget for a short amount of time, and she'd understood him when she had to leave, because he couldn't start to care.

So now, he spent most of his time as alone as possible, with just his manservant in the manor with him… it was days like those he could hardly comprehend what had happened. Sometimes he just expected her to walk through the doors of Locksley manor again, with her hair blowing in the spring breeze behind her, a smile bright on her face.

And there was a knock on his door.

_VIII._

_I know that my dream will live on…_

Ysabel shifted from foot to foot as Tess knocked on the door. She clenched and unclenched her fists slowly, and tucked a strand of her hair behind her ears. Lord Robin's manservant showed them through into the receiving room, and Ysabel looked around in mild wonder at the inside of Locksley manor. Coming from a small hut her adoptive father had constructed himself in Papplewick, the strong wooden beams and the walls adorned with murals fascinated her.

He came through a door on her right, and he stopped in his tracks when he saw her.

Was his mind playing tricks on him? The girl opposite him looked so much like Marian he couldn't take another step. And the woman standing next to her was familiar somehow, but he couldn't quite place her. Had he finally turned to insanity? He was beginning to think that would be a welcome release.

"Robin." Tess said slowly, bowing her head, and he knew who she was in that moment. "This is Ysabel."

For a moment no one said a word. Ysabel looked from the man in front of her to Tess, and then down at her lap again. When neither of the others said anything, she spoke.

"I'm sorry to intrude like this." She whispered, "But… I think you deserve to know about me… I think you've done the time she wanted you to do… I think… I'm your daughter."

Robin gripped one of the chairs to help him stand. He looked at her slowly, and she could see him counting the years, guessing her age, making the link.

"That isn't possible." He breathed, though as he spoke he realised that it could be… there was that window of time…

Ysabel looked to Tess, and the woman told him everything she had told his daughter. When she was done, neither Ysabel nor her father said a word.

Tess gave a brief nod, and stood up. "I have done all I can." She said slowly. "It is too painful to stay."

She laid her hand over Ysabel's for a moment, and then she left the room. After a long moment, the girl spoke.

"I _have _a family." She said slowly, "I don't need anything from you. I just… I thought you deserved to know the truth… and I guess… I guess I wanted to meet the legend myself. I'm sorry for wasting your time, Lord."

She started to stand from the table, and his hand came over hers. She stopped in her tracks, and for the first time, their eyes met.

"You look so much like her." He whispered, "I hope you never have to know what it feels like to miss someone this much."

Ysabel didn't say anything, but sunk back into her seat.

"I wish… I wish she'd told me about you." He said slowly, "I understand why she didn't, but I wish… I could have looked after you these past ten years, I could have had a small part of Marian where I've been all alone…"

She squeezed his hand lightly, and a tear fell out of one of his eyes.

"I'm here now." She whispered, and reached out to take his other hand.

_IX._

_At the end I wanna be standing at the beginning with you._

"Lady Ysabel! We have a carriage waiting for you! Your father… he's asking for you… the physician thinks it's nearly the end." Her housekeeper said, handing her here cloak. She took the cloak, her heart suddenly thudding in her chest.

"I'll take Lord Edward's horse, Mabel. It'll be quicker; I ride faster on my own."

"Even with the baby?"

Ysabel put a hand on the small bump under her dress. "I'll go careful. I have to be there."

The housekeeper gave her a disapproving look, but she nodded slowly. In the five years Lady Ysabel had been married to Lord Edward, his servants had gotten used to her being slightly wild and headstrong. They supposed it came from her father, though in all honesty she was like her mother that way.

She saddled up and kicked off her husband's horse, waving goodbye to her son as she rode like wildfire down towards the Nottingham road. The fear of losing her father was spreading through her, but somehow she remained strangely calm.

When she reached his bedside, it was clear the physician was right. Robin's fever had increased and he was grey-pale, but his eyes flickered open as she entered the room. There were people stood around his bed, people she knew, Allan, Kate, Much, and two men she didn't know, a tall man with skin the colour of tree-bark, and an even taller man with a ragged, wild beard. She nodded to them all, and ran to his side, clasping his hand in hers.

"It's ok, Father. I'm here." she whispered, pressing her forehead against his.

"Marian?" escaped his lips, and her heart sunk.

"Soon…" she whispered, "Shhh… it's Ysabel. I've come… I've come to say goodbye…"

A small smile touched his lips. "Bel." He whispered, and she squeezed his hand, as she had done ten years ago, the day she'd first met him.

"I was allowed ten years of her, and now I've been allowed ten years of you…" his voice was breathy and weak, but she heard him, and pressed a kiss to his forehead. "I've tried to be a good father…"

She smiled, clasping both his hands in hers. "You've been a wonderful father."

"You… your… your mother would have been so proud of you." He coughed, and his eyes were racked with pain.

Ysabel took one of his hands and placed it against the slight curve of her belly. "If it's a girl, Father, her name is going to be Marian."

Robin smiled again, and this time his eyes drifted shut.

"I'd like that…" he murmured, and his chest heaved one last time, "I love you… you brought the colours back…"

_He was standing in a room, and it was somehow familiar, somehow different. The colours seemed brighter than anything he'd seen, even since he'd met his daughter. The sun was shining through the window, and there were leaves on the trees, which didn't make sense, because it was midwinter. He heard a door slam behind him, and he turned around._

_There was a figure standing opposite him, dressed in white, her hand clapped over her mouth, staring at him. He stopped short, registering who he was seeing, and realisation crept over him like warmth as he realised what that meant. He took a shaky step towards her and realised his limbs were supple, lithe, like they used to be. He caught his reflection in the mirror across the room – he looked no older than twenty five years old, and she was the same as the day he'd first got down on one knee and proposed, before the crusade, before everything._

_He wasn't sure how they made it across the room, but when they reached each other, everything imploded in a second. He clutched her tightly to him, breathing in the scent of her, kissing her face, her hair, her mouth… and she was so **real. **It didn't seem possible._

_"How?"_

_She smiled at him, tracing the curve of his cheek with her finger. "You're dead, Robin." She whispered, "I was beginning to think you'd never make it here, but you have."  
He kissed her lightly. "I'm sorry, Marian."_

_She laughed. "What for? Look at me… look at us… we're here, now."_

_"Together." He breathed, and kissed her again, holding her tightly. "A long time in heaven, right?"_

_She smiled. "Whatever you want to call it." Then she took his hands. "I'm sorry, too, Robin. For not telling you about Ysabel… she's… she's grown up quite beautiful."_

_He rested his forehead gently against hers. "She's just like you." He whispered, "And she's going to be just fine."_

_Marian took his hand and led him out of the room, down the stairs and into the courtyard, Locksley courtyard on a summer's day. He opened his mouth._

_"I can't quite believe it." _

_She threaded an arm round his waist, and leant into him._

_"It's real. I'm real."_

_"We're… we're right… right back at the beginning."_

_And after she nodded, she kissed him again._

**A/N: Hope you liked it! Please check out the corresponding Youtube Vid ;)**

**xxx**


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